


breath is life (it tells the truth)

by PerthroSeidraikiri



Series: hold your heart the way he holds your hand [3]
Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Angst, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Open Ending, Slow Romance, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24686824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerthroSeidraikiri/pseuds/PerthroSeidraikiri
Summary: He wheezes and feels the drag of his claws as he reaches stupidly and desperately for whatever is blocking his airway, his fingertips brush against something soft and spit dribbles down his hand as he gags but he doesn’t retract his hand.It's not even larger than a bug.Covered in his saliva is a small little green petal that he’s seen in one of Shiemi’s exercise books.Zinnia, small petals, light green.
Relationships: Amaimon & Mephisto Pheles, Amaimon & Okumura Rin, Okumura Rin/Mephisto Pheles
Series: hold your heart the way he holds your hand [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774975
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	breath is life (it tells the truth)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kazeni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazeni/gifts).



> Mephisto denies his feelings because demons don't feel,  
> Not this time. 
> 
> \0/  
> I absolutely have no idea where exactly this fic occurs; all I know is that it's before Yukio shot Rin and after he awoke in Mephisto's bedroom.

The taste of blood was not something uncommon to Mephisto. The copper taste, tangy and metallic, filled his mouth more often than he liked. It made his tongue tingle, the taste of it almost addicting that sometimes he would bite himself again right after on purpose just to acknowledge the tang of it better.

Sometimes to experience the pain of it once more. 

Most of the time, when he bit himself, it was due to dissatisfaction or being too drawn into his thoughts.

Which was often; more of being drawn into thoughts than feeling dissatisfied.

There were too many things, too many thoughts that occupied his mind.

There wasn't much that dissatisfied him anymore either; there were a lot of humans that kept him entertained, struggling and taking themselves out or thriving as his game grew, even if they didn't go by the thousand and one presumptions he had for them or wished them to go by. 

Always so interesting, everyone had some little thing that drove them.

Just like the footsteps, quick and irritated ones that echoed in his office as they walked towards the door did. It swung open harshly, the papers on his desk fluttered.

Completely what Mephisto had predicted would happen among all the hundred ideas he had. 

He caught a peek of his leaving guest's tail, limp and tense, blazing at the tip with blue flames as the metallic tang of blood flooded his mouth.

When he bit his tongue, it was more out of habit than by mistake, his sharp canines dug into the flesh of his tongue as he clenched his eyes the moment the sound of the door shutting closed reached his ears, twitching slightly from the loudness of it.

He chuckled lightly to himself, humming as the sting in his tongue sparked, fingers pressed into the furrow that sat between his eyebrows before the chair that sat lopsidedly in front of his desk drew his unamused acid green eyes towards it.

A scent, a strong smokey one, lingered around his desk, strongest at the chair that sat to the left of him, unmoving and completely out of place, yet looking like it wanted to melt. 

Mephisto found himself taking a small inhale. 

A brief one, almost as if he was trying to tease himself by doing so. 

His nose wrinkled as the scent filled his sense of smell, all too much, that it mercilessly choked him with the heavy smell of smokey cinnamon sending sharp shivers of content down his spine in retaliation, which had him choking even more as his body responded needily for another sniff. 

Which is exactly what he did anyway.

Breathing in the addicting scent that now began to fill his whole office somehow feeling closer than before, right at his collar. 

He liked it, the sting, and the discomfort that sat in his chest. But that was often what curiosity always did wasn’t it? Played with you, drew you in, and pinned you down where it hurt most.

And it hurts everywhere.

He’s far from regretting it though even as his throat burns and his eyes water. The breath in his chest wheezes out of him as he tries to regain his breath, gasping, and taking in the scent once more as he did so.  
  
The sting that blazed and pricked at his chest as a result of the overwhelming scent spread up to his shoulders, piercing the degradation that marred them and possibly spreading it, even more, the inkling feeling of numbness spreading towards his neck.

A cough ripped through his lips then another gasp for air followed. Sharp nails clawed at his tie, pulling the pink cloth away from his neck in haste as he gasped again.

His shoulders shaking violently, the bony and light feeling of them suddenly heavy as the racking in his chest grew, filling with pressure as he coughed even harder.

As he coughed, the blood in his mouth dribbled down his lips, dripping onto his desk along with little blue petals.

A few more follow, fluttering, and dropping.  
Then a whole lot more start to litter the spot; but this time with all petals completely stuck to the flower’s sepals was what spilled from his lips. Tainted and painted red.  
  
Blue just like _his_ eyes. 

Red just like the flame that burns in them when blazing azure surrounds him.

"Well, fuck." 

* * *

Rin’s rage is something uncontrollable, something he has never managed to learn how to hold back or bothered to do so either.

It’s hard to when it’s a good fuel to his strength.

It makes him feel stronger and it makes his flames burn brighter, powerful enough to intimidate most demons. The little horns that protrude from under his bangs sting a little as he brushes his hand through the white strands. His flames die out slowly as he makes his way down the hall, leaving his hair frizzy and much messier than his normal hairstyle.

Another thing that makes him more of a demon. Unable to control himself.  
  
His footsteps are angry as he stomps away from Mephisto’s office, frown at his lips as he replays the man’s words in his head, “A weapon, of course, to defeat Satan.”  
  
Yet as always, his eyes say much more than that. 

“Stupid clown,” he growls, frowning even more as he rushes down the steps, boots scuffing against the floors.

“Never straight to the point, he’s hiding something, well he always is but I know for sure this time.”

He talks to himself out loud as he rounds the corner, talking to himself helps him think better and reason out better. He ignores the feeling at the back of his mind telling him he sounds like an idiot and he’s never managed to deduct anything Mephisto ever says or implies properly.  
  
“Can’t the guy just talk straight for once. Tch, Mephisto really gets on my-”

A choke leaves him and he loses his footing for a second as the wind is knocked out of him, grimaces and clutches his chest, gasps as his throat burns. 

He stays leaning against the wall for minutes, clutching his chest and letting out little rasps.

The hallways are empty, there’s no one to help him as he slides to the floor, coughing hard as his throat burns, even more. 

He wheezes and feels the drag of his claws as he reaches stupidly and desperately for whatever is blocking his airway, his fingertips brush against something soft and spit dribbles down his hand as he gags but he doesn’t retract his hand. 

It's not even larger than a bug.

Covered in his saliva is a small little green petal that he’s seen in one of Shiemi’s exercise books.

 _Zinnia, small petals, light green._ _  
  
_

He knows two things, he hasn’t eaten any vegetables lately and having a flower choke him is not normal at all.  
  
The rest that follow are covered in blood.

* * *

Mephisto doesn’t know what it feels like to be intimidated by someone’s presence until he catches sight of Rin. 

Which is unlike him.  
And now he’s avoiding him. Or more of ignoring him, passing his little brother like he doesn’t know him.

It’s a human thing, to ignore someone. Mephisto doesn’t ignore anyone no matter how occupied he is. But here he is, ignoring Rin like any other _human,_ petty and not exactly knowing why.

It’s his vessel, he’s sure. Leaking its useless and unwanted emotions into him. 

But the evidence persists.  
He doesn’t pop into the past with him anymore.  
He lets his past self do that.  
  
He doesn’t throw him a little grin as he passes him,  
He doesn’t even bother to answer Amaimon’s prodding and continuous questions about him.  
  
_“What’s he doing?” Amaimon asks. The weight of his arm pressing down on Mephisto’s shoulders as they stare out the glass windows of his office. Rin’s lips break out into a grin that Mephisto can’t help but focus on as if he’s trapped by it._

 _“Big brother?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _There’s a poke at his chest then his waist then his cheek, “Are you asleep? I’ve heard that some humans can sleep standing. Is that what you’re doing?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“I’ll rip your fingers off.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Amaimon had looked at him, unconvinced and undeterred before he followed his brother’s gaze. Gold eyes narrowing._ _  
_ _  
_ He’s not sure how much longer he’s going to continue trying to convince himself that what he’s doing is purely the influence of his vessel.  
Sentiment often tends to bleed into him once in a while out of the blue until he brushes it off.  
  
The burning need to cough tingles in his throat again as the memory crosses his mind.

He’s not supposed to feel things, he’s not supposed to _feel_ anything related to sentiment. It’s not like a demon and it’s definitely not like him.

Yet, Rin is on his bed. 

Sound asleep and staining his bed with his scent.

One that Mephisto finds himself giving into way too easily.

Rin’s mouth is open, drool seeping from the corner of his lips, much to Samael’s disgust as it pools on one of his pillows. His eyes are half-open, legs are thrown to the right, and are tangled in sheets. It’s almost amusing until his eyes fix on the younger demon, trailing down and then back up to where his chest rises and falls. 

“This…” Mephisto starts, eyes trailing back to look at Rin’s face, acid green eyes holding a hint of interest beneath all the denial that shines through them zeroes in on nothing but Rin.

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

He doesn’t even remember what that means, mind on halt. 

Emotions really did suck.  
  


* * *

“Is it ‘cause of him?”

Amaimon’s claws rudely point towards him before he begins to chew on them. Amber eyes trained on his big brother, blank but somehow prodding. He hates that gaze, he hates when Amaimon figures out the littlest things that shouldn’t be bothering him.

The little things that he’s noticed.

Little things that he doesn’t want to fix because they had the potential to ruin his game.

“Who?” The rasp in his voice sounds so pathetic Mephisto growls right after, clearing his throat and looking up at Amaimon, raising his eyebrows at him as their sharp gazes met each other. 

“Rin.” Amaimon sits on his desk, folds his legs, and uncaringly presses his dirt-caked soles onto the desk, staining the papers that sit messily beside him. The name sends a sharp shot of pain down his chest.  
  
“What…” the burning sensation, now a usual thing, rises in his throat and inflames his chest, “about him?”

Amaimon’s chewing becomes louder, he leans in closer invading all of Mephisto space. 

“You’re sick, you’re pretending and-”  
  
Petals fall from his gasping lips. The burn in his chest flares each and every part of him in seconds, leaving him breathless. It hurts more than ever, the inhale he takes in doesn’t do much good to soothe the throb.

“ _And_ ,” Amaimon’s fingers pulled away from his lips, “you keep doing _that_ every time I mention him.” he points out, straight to the point and unconcerned about any of the consequences as he reaches to pick up one of the petals and smushes it in between his fingertips, skin staining red as he played around with it.

His silence was answer enough for Amaimon, “Shall I kill him?”

There’s playfulness in his voice.

A playfulness Mephisto wouldn’t have minded months ago.

* * *

Belonging is not something Mephisto is familiar with. 

Or well, he’s aware of the idea and the concept but not at all of the feeling. The order is everything else but a place Mephisto belongs too, the humans are his little pawns and until now no one that had ever stepped foot into his house ever felt like they belonged there. 

And Rin, as much as Mephisto wanted to deny it, belonged in his mansion. 

The kitchen clanged and echoed with the noise of pots and pans in the afternoon. The game room blared and boomed with the sound of his gaming system being used. His guest room smelled like him and everything Mephisto looked forward to seeing in the morning.

He had liked the space before, the empty and quiet halls.

But when Rin needed a place to stay, a much more convenient place where Mephisto could reach him and vice versa, the older demon proposed, words leaving his tongue before he could re-think it.

Even if he had done so over a million times before as he watched Rin drag himself home to the run-down apartment which was just as empty as his.  
  
Amaimon popped by sometimes and hogged his game room and followed Rin to the kitchen, suggesting and requesting.  
  
“Kimchi!”

“I want cake! That bigggg white cake you gave big brother.”  
  
“Biscuits, biscuits, biscuits.”

He chanted and repeated over and over again until Rin, pressing his fingers to the demon’s mouth shut him up, a little grin that Mephisto wanted to be on the receiving end of stretching his lips as he replied with ‘say please.’

“Pork, please.” Amaimon mumbled, fangs digging into Rin’s fingers as the scent of candy that coated them wafted up his nose.

He squawked and yowled, pulling his hands away and huffing, “Ow, Amaimon, dammit, don’t do that!”

“Not when you do things like that.” Mephisto had quipped, eyeing him momentarily before stepping out, the smell of freshly cooked ramen and bright smiles consuming him.  
  


* * *

“I don’t like to be disturbed during my baths Rin.”

Well, it depended on what type of disturbance it would be. The taste of blood begins to sneak up.

“What happened to your shoulders?”

“Simple degradation.”

“Dergawhat?”

He peeks at him with one eye open, lips quirking, “Rotting.”

The disturbance, obviously, has been welcomed. 

“Why?”  
  
“How can I help you?” he replies instead, “I’m trying to enjoy some peace and quiet and you’re not respecting either of those.”

“You didn’t come down for dinner.”

He knows, the laughs and smells of spices had tempted him before he decided otherwise. 

“Yes, and?”

“Why not?”  
  
“I wasn’t hungry.” He murmurs, childishly, a horrible excuse.  
  
“It was ramen.” Rin countered, swallowing uncomfortably as if he has something stuck in his throat before he made his way towards the bathtub, squatting, going on eye to eye level with Mephisto as the man let his head lie onto his palms.  
  
“Pity, maybe next time.” 

Mephisto’s eyes narrowed as Rin’s determinedly tried to stare into his. 

“Mephisto.”

He doesn’t answer but he growls when he feels the swipe of fingers against his shoulders, “How far do these go?”

He’s stepped over the boundaries, crushed them utterly. Mephisto doesn't bother to put them back up, not when he's finally close

Clawed fingertips tip Rin’s head upwards, cold wet dripping hand cupping his cheek as Mephisto rose ever so slightly. 

“As far as they want.”

The lips that press against Rin’s are welcomed.

**Author's Note:**

> =]! Thank you for reading!


End file.
